Volume One: The Journey of the Outcast Fiery Demon-Slaying Chapter Thirty-One: Insatiable Greed, Possession by a Spirit

Ma Zhong nodded, placed the broadsword atop the coffin lid, and, with Wang Kui’s help, carefully climbed into the coffin. He began to search inch by inch beside the female corpse. Beneath the hands folded over her abdomen, he indeed found a pendant that glimmered with a ghostly jade-green light.

The moment he saw the pendant, he knew it was no ordinary object. Excitement getting the better of him, Ma Zhong lifted his head too quickly and knocked it against the coffin lid. Grumbling and rubbing his head, he handed the pendant out.

“This is an ancient jade pendant of the finest quality, and it’s from the Qin Dynasty—so well preserved, too. On the black market, it’ll fetch a fortune. This trip wasn’t in vain after all. You take it; I’ll see if there’s anything else.”

Wei Wudao took the ancient jade, his eyes wide in amazement. Between them, they’d robbed over a hundred tombs, but never had they seen anything so dazzlingly translucent. The few pieces of good jade they’d found before had belonged to nobles or kings. The most common grave goods they were able to take away were jade artifacts and gold—this kind of piece was rare indeed.

Although it was clear they’d found something extraordinary, only someone like Ma Zhong, who’d spent years among wealthy households and frequented black markets, could truly recognize its worth. Even so, he couldn’t say exactly how many silver taels it might bring; only the wealthy buyers at the black market could appraise it. Still, it was certainly not something that could be had for a mere thousand or two. For them, this was the most valuable item they’d ever uncovered.

Ma Zhong continued feeling around the corpse, but after a long search, found nothing more. He looked up at the runes and characters carved into the jade coffin lid. These symbols and script belonged to an era they did not understand; they paid them no mind, not bothering to mention them since no one would have understood anyway. Finally, he took off two gold bracelets from the corpse and climbed out of the coffin.

Once outside, they replaced the coffin lid, then, cautiously, retraced their steps along the passageway, finally leaving the burial chamber. Only after emerging did they exchange relieved glances and allow themselves a smile.

Recalling the clay figures they’d seen earlier made their skin crawl. There hadn’t been many—just over a dozen—but if things had been as Wei Wudao feared, they might not have made it out alive. Thankfully, there’d been nothing living in there, and their luck had held.

Back in the main tomb passage, the group exchanged a knowing look.

“I say,” Ma Zhong began, “that chamber just now didn’t look like the main burial chamber at all—plus, it was a woman’s coffin. The room was large, but only a handful of clay soldiers guarded it. Her status must have been high, but the grave goods, though few, were incredibly valuable. That ancient jade pendant alone could feed us for years. There’s another passage to the left; if I’m not mistaken, that’ll lead to the main chamber. That’s where the famous figure from Qin must be buried. Since we’re already here, how can we not go take a look?”

After Ma Zhong finished, he looked around at the others. Wang Kui and Tu Sanguang, naturally, had no objection; they were eager for a big haul that would set them up for life. Only Wei Wudao frowned, ignoring Ma Zhong’s suggestion.

Wang Kui clapped Wei Wudao on the shoulder. “What’s wrong, old trickster? The rest of your life’s comfort is right behind that door. We’re already at the threshold—don’t tell me you’re scared now?”

Wei Wudao sighed. “It’s not that I’m scared. But when we chose left or right before, my spirit compass detected evil energy from the left, which is why we went right. This tomb isn’t like the others; it’s deeply sinister. The walls are covered in talismans for guiding souls and suppressing spirits. I can’t imagine why those two would ever be inscribed together, and there are other runes I can’t make sense of at all—who knows what they mean? If there’s something inside we can’t handle, there’ll be no glory or riches—just our deaths. Why not call it quits now? We’re not leaving empty-handed; these pieces will keep us comfortable for years.”

Ma Zhong was having none of it. “Now who’s scared? Since when did we ever back down? Every tomb is the same in our line of work. We’ve dealt with evil before. If things get out of hand, we can always call in priests from Maoshan to clean up. We’ve stumbled upon a tomb like this—a once-in-a-lifetime chance! If we leave now and someone else digs it up, we’ll regret it for the rest of our lives.”

Tu Sanguang and Wang Kui chimed in, “Exactly! We may never see another tomb like this in our lifetimes.”

Even so, Wei Wudao remained silent, brows furrowed, making no decision.

Ma Zhong lost patience. “Time’s running out. If you won’t go, the three of us will. If we find any treasures, you’ll only get a share of what we’ve found so far. Don’t blame us for being stingy—you don’t do the work, you don’t get the reward. Fair warning.”

Hearing this, Wei Wudao made up his mind. If they died, they’d die together; if not, they’d be wealthy for life. Ma Zhong was right—every grand tomb was sinister, and the more sinister, the greater the treasures within.

“Fine. The four of us have never split up on a job. If you’re all going in, how could I leave alone? Let’s see this through together. After this, we’ll wash our hands of this trade and live easy for the rest of our days.”

With their resolve aligned, they headed toward the left passage. As they entered, the ever-burning lamps in the main corridor behind them flickered, but they were already descending and did not notice.

The left passage differed from the right; they’d smashed through a stone wall on the right, but on the left, ten or so paces and a right turn brought them directly to a stone door.

This door was much thicker than the stone wall before. At its center was a rune they could not decipher, stained with faded traces of red, likely from the passage of centuries. Above the door, a serpent was carved in relief, its head jutting outward, eyes glaring, tongue flicking—enough to make one’s skin crawl.

Wei Wudao said, “We’ll need time to break through this door. The serpent above—could it be the same as the one outside? Makes me uneasy. Smash that snake’s head first, will you? I can’t stand looking at it.”

Wang Kui laughed at his timidity. “We’ll handle it. You don’t look like the bold trickster I remember—have you stashed all your bravado away?”

The two of them swung their shovels, knocking the snake’s head to the ground where it shattered. Then, with a pick and a spade, they began attacking the door. It took nearly the time of a stick of incense.

With a thunderous crash, the left stone door was forced open.

Wang Kui gave the right door a powerful kick and it, too, swung open. The doors were indeed thick, and both Wang Kui and Tu Sanguang were left gasping and collapsed to the ground.

Wei Wudao and Ma Zhong peered cautiously inside. What they saw sent chills down their spines.

The floor was covered with a dense mass of human bones, some piled in heaps—almost the entire chamber was carpeted with skeletons.

Two massive stone pillars supported the chamber; they were so large that even two men together couldn’t have encircled one. Eternal lamps illuminated the vast space, which was far grander than the previous chamber.

The earlier chamber had stairs leading up to the jade coffin, guarded by a dozen clay soldiers. Here, there were no stairs, but the entire space was much taller.

In the center, two golden coffins lay side by side, surrounded by hundreds of clay soldiers arranged in perfect formation like an army awaiting orders.

At the front was a figure distinguished by his armor, utterly unlike the others, holding a long spear and exuding an imposing presence—clearly a commander of extraordinary rank.

Wei Wudao and Ma Zhong lingered at the threshold, unable to step inside. There was nowhere to set foot; the ground was a sea of bones. Though they’d robbed many tombs, nothing had ever unnerved them like this.

Tu Sanguang and Wang Kui, having caught their breath, rose and called out as they approached, “What are you standing outside for—?”

But the sight within stunned them into silence.

Wang Kui stammered, “I saw something white and thought it was a stone I’d kicked in. Are these—all bones?”

Tu Sanguang was equally shaken. “I—I thought they were just stones. Could these all be the remains of the sacrificial dead?”

Wei Wudao finally recovered. “No wonder there are so many talismans outside. These people must have been buried alive as sacrifices. The ones in the golden coffins must have been utterly ruthless in life, to require so many innocents in death. Fortunately, these bones have lain here for countless years. With talismans suppressing them, their souls have probably long since scattered. If someone had opened this chamber a few centuries ago, the resentment and deathly energy would have spawned vengeful spirits and monstrous demons.”

Ma Zhong swallowed hard. “Let’s just go. The doors are open, and there are two gold coffins. Let’s grab the grave goods and get out—I don’t want to stay here another moment. You two with the strength, clear a path through these bones so we can get by.”

Wang Kui, sweating with fear but braver than the rest, stepped in first and used his shovel and feet to push the bones aside. Tu Sanguang followed, and soon a path was cleared. Ma Zhong and Wei Wudao, trembling, made their way inside.

No sooner had they entered than Wei Wudao felt an oppressive force weighing down the chamber—a sensation that made him deeply uneasy. But seeing the others were fine, he pressed on to the golden coffins.

He did not approach the coffins immediately but instead examined the nearby clay soldiers. These, like those in the other chamber, bore talismans carved onto their armor—talismans for suppressing spirits.

Commanders skilled in spears were rare in Qin; the foremost figure must have been Wei Chi, the famed Qin general, who had slaughtered countless foes on the battlefield with his legendary spear, unmatched in its time.

Lost in thought, Wei Wudao frowned and took out his spirit compass, rotating it in his hand. The needle pointed unwaveringly at the two golden coffins.

Ma Zhong noticed and asked, “Old trickster, is something wrong? Should we bring out the Soul Suppressing Ruler?”

Tu Sanguang and Wang Kui, who had been staring at the coffins, turned their gaze to Wei Wudao.

Wei Wudao, brows knitted, swallowed hard. “All the evil in this chamber is concentrated in those coffins. If I’m right, what lies within isn’t just simple corpses. Not only should we bring out the Soul Suppressing Ruler, but Kui and Ma will need to help me use a soul-binding ritual to call upon the spirits I serve. Only once we deal with the evil inside can we claim the treasures.”

“Is it the same as last time—some kind of evil entity inside?”

Wei Wudao’s frown deepened. “The evil here may be even older and more dangerous—ancient enough to be ancestor to our ancestors.”

At this point, Ma Zhong was unwilling to back down. “Then let’s get on with it. It’s not our first time. Your ritual is powerful—just don’t hurt us. As long as we get the treasures, do what you must.”

Wang Kui nodded. Wei Wudao looked at them and said, “Very well. If we die, we die together. Sanguang, wait a moment—I’ll perform the ritual for Kui and Ma first, then you and I will open the coffin. Once it’s open, we’ll improvise. First, let me bring out the Soul Suppressing Ruler. You all step back.”

The others nodded and stepped back. From his bundle, Wei Wudao took out an object wrapped in yellow cloth. Inside was a pitch-black, lustrous ruler—thicker than a silver ingot, inscribed with dark red runes, the mantra of the Ming King for suppressing spirits, which Chen San had learned from his master.

It was called a ruler, but in truth it was an artifact forged by a sorcerer a century ago—far more potent than the chanted mantras alone.

If an evil spirit was sealed inside a coffin, this ruler could suppress it as surely as a seal; even the most malevolent entity, if able to emerge at all, would be so weakened that the group could handle it.

Wei Wudao handled the Soul Suppressing Ruler with utmost care—it was their lifesaver, and ever since acquiring it, they’d revered it like an ancestral relic.

He handed the yellow cloth to Ma Zhong, then lifted the ruler above his head, preparing to chant the incantation. Before he could begin, the ruler flew from his hands as if drawn by a magnet, slamming onto the lid of the golden coffin with a resounding clang.

Startled, Wei Wudao thought he’d dropped it by mistake, but when he looked down, the runes on the ruler were glowing red atop the coffin.

The others stared in disbelief.

They had used the Soul Suppressing Ruler before—it had always required Wei Wudao to finish the incantation, place it on the lid, and channel its power. Just approaching it, they’d all feel an invisible force pressing upon them. But now, they saw only the red glow—no sensation of power at all.

Wang Kui voiced his concern. “Did you activate it? It looked like you just dropped it. And why’s it glowing red?”

Wei Wudao frowned. “I thought I’d dropped it too, but the coffin was still ahead of me. If I’d dropped it, it should have fallen to the floor—how could it have landed there?”

He reached out to touch the ruler but drew back with a hiss—the ruler was scorching hot.

He said in fear, “It’s burning—maybe we should give up. I don’t think what’s inside is something we can handle. If we let it out, not just us, but the whole village could be doomed.”

Ma Zhong scolded him. “Not this again! When did you get so soft? You never worried about the villagers’ sweat and blood when you were tricking them out of their hard-earned silver. Now you want to play the hero? Shall I thank you on their behalf? Stop with the nonsense—hurry up and draw the soul-binding talismans. Time is short, dawn’s coming. The rest of our lives depend on these coffins—get moving!”

Sweat beaded on Wei Wudao’s brow. “You two, take off your shirts.”

He produced chicken blood and a ritual brush, prepared in advance, and faced the two men as they stripped to the waist.

Meanwhile, Tu Sanguang had already hooked the coffin lid with an iron chain, waiting for Wei Wudao to finish.

In short order, the talismans were drawn on their backs. Originally, he’d intended to inscribe Wang Kui and Tu Sanguang, but since neither he nor Ma Zhong had the strength to open the coffin, he would open it with Tu Sanguang, while Ma Zhong and Wang Kui received the spirits.

His ritual was similar to Chen San’s spirit-inviting incantation, but with a key difference: Wei Wudao summoned spirits to possess others, while Chen San called them into himself. Wei Wudao invoked three guardian spirits of his order; Chen San called upon ancestral Daoist spirits.

With the talismans drawn, Wei Wudao began the incantation: “Lords of the Four Directions, reveal your power; Five Officials, bow before the Three Bright Ones. Divine water displays intent, swallows three golds. I beseech the Three Yin Spirits to bind the soul.” He pressed several points on Wang Kui’s back, then pricked his own finger and drew the final seal on the talisman. As the spell took effect, Wang Kui shuddered and lowered his head.

Repeating the process for Ma Zhong, he again recited the spell, pressed the points, and sealed the charm. Ma Zhong, too, shuddered and bowed his head.

Seeing the ritual complete, Wei Wudao raised his hands in salute and addressed the two: “Disciple Wei Wudao respectfully invites the Binding Word and Binding Whole Spirits to aid me in slaying evil.”

Ma Zhong and Wang Kui raised their heads in unison and leapt over the bones. With two crunches of breaking bone, they exchanged a glance and turned to face Wei Wudao.

Knowing the spirits had descended, Wei Wudao and Tu Sanguang heaved the iron chain, ready to open the golden coffin.